


I leapt to freedom

by ultraviolence



Category: Fate/Apocrypha, Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: Altar Sex, Alternate Universe - Angels, Alternate Universe - Priests, Dirty Talk, Fallen Angels, Kissing, M/M, Marking, Possible Soulmates, Priest Kink, Strangers to Lovers, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-04 01:40:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14582136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultraviolence/pseuds/ultraviolence
Summary: "Karna looked at him critically, as if he was assessing Arjuna’s words, measuring it up against something, and Arjuna half-hoped that he might say it out loud, but in the end, he leaned back against his seat, eyes gazing towards the raised dais that holds the altar. Arjuna couldn’t quite decipher his gaze. 'Perhaps it was God’s will,' he finally said, slowly, bringing his gaze back towards Arjuna, giving him a simple yet enigmatic smile. 'I accept, Father. Thank you for your kindness.''As you said,' Arjuna returned, 'perhaps it was God’s will.'”A young priest, Arjuna rescued an enigmatic man from an attempted mugging. It will change his life forever, and in ways that he couldn't predict. AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Bleh, I planned this to be a oneshot but it ended up to be possibly longer than I thought and it somehow just doesn't felt right to write this as such. 
> 
> I tried to deal with the topic maturely (of the great G), and I hope I didn't offend anyone. That aside, enjoy!

Arjuna felt like he’d met him somewhere before, the first time he encountered him.

The man he saved—if it could be called that—from the attempted mugging watched the children—the would-be muggers—leave, his eyes unblinking, like the sky.

And when he turned to face Arjuna, the familiarity of his face—the planes of it, the odd red of his right eye, like a bloody sunset—strikes him breathless, and he realised that he was holding his breath. 

The odd man smiles, ever so slightly, a shining beacon on the otherwise merciless horizon.

“Thank you,” he says, bowing slightly, although something about him says that he doesn’t need help, “Father. Is there something wrong?” he added, tilting his head. Arjuna released his breath from the cage of his lungs.

“Nothing,” he told him, a little grumpily, a little too distant. He has always been this way. “I just…thought I’ve seen you before,” he said, scrutinising the man. Arjuna had certainly seen him somewhere before, the strange familiarity aside. The man had very odd colouring; other than his mismatched eyes—which reminded Arjuna of a sunset’s reflection in the sea—he had pure white hair, as pure and as white as the feathers of a dove, or an angel’s wings. “Have I seen you before?”

He was a few years older than him, but the other man bows his head anyway, a gesture of respect. “I was…part of your congregation for a while, Father.”

“Ah,” Arjuna says, nodding, and then he remembers something. “I called on you once to receive communion and you ran away from me. So we meet again.”

“Yes,” the man says, an enigmatic smile forming in the corner of his lips, “so it seems, Father.”

There was a silence, and then there was a question, since Arjuna was duty-bound to do so, even if there was something…discomforting about the man, something like an accident in progress, or something akin to the sensation of falling. Somehow, he wanted to get away from him but also pitied him all at once. “Is everything fine?”

The man nodded, quickly, but Arjuna knows at that moment that he was a terrible liar. “Yes, everything’s fine. Please, do not worry about me, Father. I am sure that you still have many things to do.”

Arjuna suppressed a sigh. “Lying is obviously a sin, you do realise that? Walk with me,” he said—added—on impulse. Something is telling him this man needs more than help, even if Arjuna is hesitant to give it. But this could very well be God’s test. “Please.”

A flash of a small smile crossed the man’s expression, and was gone in an instant, but Arjuna witnessed it anyway. Even if he is in trouble, he was very good at concealing it. “Of course, Father. But I insist, I am not in any kind of trouble. At all.”

This time, Arjuna really sighed. “Just tell me your name. You could tell me the rest in the church. It’s about to rain anyway. Come.”

He didn’t wait for the man, but resumes his brisk pace, orienting himself towards the church. Even now, he prays—silently—to God for guidance, because he wasn’t quite sure what to do with this man. 

The strange man catches up with him. “Karna,” he told him, “pleased to be acquainted with you, Father.”

In the beginning, there was a name, lighting up the darkness.

* * *

The spring sky came through with its promise. When they arrived at the church, he was quite wet from the rain, and Arjuna regrets not bringing an umbrella with him before he left on that daily walk today. He wasn’t the only one. Karna was just as wet, and he looked somewhat cold. 

“Would you like to borrow some of my clothes?” Arjuna offered, quite awkwardly, after the double doors closed behind them, highlighting the magnificent silence that now surrounds them, even if the town’s church were not as big as he’d liked it to be. “Or you could search for some in the donations bin,” he continued, not unkindly, “I’m sure you’ll find one that fits.”

“I think the latter is quite okay,” Karna says. “Although I’m quite fine.”

“The donations bin is over there,” Arjuna says in return, pointing him towards the aforementioned place. He doesn’t really care if Karna thought him pushy, something’s not right with this man and God forbid Arjuna didn’t find out what it was and fix it. He remembered that one of his brothers said that his stubbornness would be his downfall, but Arjuna disagreed strongly with such a statement. “I’ll change for a bit. I’ll meet you here, and then we can talk about what bothers you.”

When they meet again, not long after that, Karna has dressed himself up comfortably, although the shirt’s a little too big for him, in Arjuna’s opinion, and he had changed into clean clothes. He was sitting in the empty pew, a striking image, looking like he belonged there, but that doesn’t put Arjuna’s feeling of unease to rest. If anything, it serves to inflame them. 

There was silence again between them—Arjuna thought the other man hadn’t sensed his presence—but then Karna spoke, as if reading his mind. “I was looking at the murals, Father. You wanted to ask. I thought they were beautiful but didn’t particularly convey the truth.”

This disturbs Arjuna, who bristles at his statement. Who is this man to make such strong statements? 

“What truth?” he asked, coming up to him, making his way to him gracefully, hands clasped together. Karna glanced at him, his right eye like a crying Madonna. 

“The truth about God.” he said, conclusively, like a child, like a wise man who had spent his lifetime searching for wisdom, and found it. There was something utterly absurd about the way he said it, in the broadest sense of the word, and Arjuna couldn’t help but noticed a hidden note of resignation in Karna’s voice. 

In the beginning—Arjuna didn’t know it yet—Karna was trying to tell him the truth. 

Arjuna simply raised an eyebrow. “I did not want to have a discussion about theology with you,” he said, calmly, although he could feel that his hands were shaking. He hoped that Karna didn’t notice that. “Perhaps another time, Karna. I invited you here because I sensed that you were in trouble.”

“It is not a discussion if it is true, Father,” Karna said, shrugging ever so slightly. Something about it aggravates Arjuna even more. “Your hands are shaking. You know that I am telling the truth. As for the kids, they are not a problem. Not that I don’t appreciate your assistance,” a slight pause, and Arjuna could feel his face contorted into something ugly, though he quickly controls himself. Something about this man also pisses him off, and that’s not good. “I was…about to give them the rest of my money. Ah…”

He must have slipped, because he certainly looked like a child caught redhanded. Arjuna smiles slightly, finding the opening he’d been after. “Why would you give them the rest of your money? And what happened to you?” he paused, pleased that Karna averted his gaze. The infuriating (though of course God forbid Arjuna thought of him as that) man was caving in. 

“It just seemed like the right thing to do,” Karna answered coolly, much to Arjuna’s chagrin, meeting his dark gaze once more. “Wouldn’t you agree, Father?”

He also casually ignored Arjuna’s question. Arjuna gave him a slight, wry smile. “Of course. But God also taught us to be moderate in our virtues. It was kind of you to want to help them, obviously, but not at the expense of yourself.”

Karna shrugged, leaning back at the bench, staring past Arjuna towards the altar. There was silence, again, and Arjuna sighed. Perhaps it’s time that he switched gears if he wanted to get anything out of the other man. “You’re a bit young to be a priest,” Karna said, once more breaking the silence, “no offence meant, Father.”

Arjuna forced a smile. He was faced with the same question so many times, he lost count. “No offence taken,” he said, and added, “the light of God reached everyone, no matter the age. But we’re here to talk about you, not me,” he continued, gaze piercing him, “do you have something to tell me, Karna?”

Karna tilted his head. There was something wrong with his eyes, Arjuna thought, they were too old and too wise for a man so young and so…lost. He finally found a word that completely and utterly describes him. “Strange for you to ask that, Father, since you were the one who brought me here to talk. But I suppose…” he trails off for a bit, eyes that were already distant now light-years away. “I suppose I could tell you.”

Arjuna smiles again, hopefully kindly—he hoped, he really hoped—and sat down next to him. “Please, do tell me. I am here for you. And the confessional too, if you are ever in the need for it.”

“Well, for one,” Karna said, after a certain amount of silence, toying with a frayed edge of his secondhand shirt, “I don’t have much money left, as you must already know by now, Father. And I don’t have anywhere to live, either. I…I got kicked out,” he said, and Arjuna could sense that he stopped himself from saying a certain word. He absently wonders why. The more he knows about the other man, the deeper the mystery gets, and they still barely know each other.

“Are you in the place to tell me why?” Arjuna prompted, not unkindly.

“He passed away, as it so often happens,” Karna told him, shrugging again. “The one who took me in, that is. The new owner…let’s just say she wasn’t so keen on having a burden around the premises.”

So that was it. A kindly man took him in from God knows where and what and then he got kicked out when said man passes away. Arjuna could sympathise. He gave Karna a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry to hear that, Karna,” he said, and then paused as an idea popped into mind. It was the worst sort of idea, and Arjuna hated himself for even entertaining it, but he couldn’t help it. He promised himself to help those who needed it, after all, and Karna, too, was part of his congregation. He couldn’t simply leave him homeless and out of luck. He hoped that Karna couldn’t see that the gears of his mind were spinning. “There is an empty, furnished room upstairs,” he added, “it was meant to be a guest bedroom, in case any other priest came to visit. But it was mostly empty. You could occupy that room, if you wanted to. The only catch is that you have to help me around the place, doing yardwork and laundry and such.”

Karna looked at him critically, as if he was assessing Arjuna’s words, measuring it up against something, and Arjuna half-hoped that he might say it out loud, but in the end, he leaned back against his seat, eyes gazing towards the raised dais that holds the altar. Arjuna couldn’t quite decipher his gaze. “Perhaps it was God’s will,” he finally said, slowly, bringing his gaze back towards Arjuna, giving him a simple yet enigmatic smile. “I accept, Father. Thank you for your kindness.”

“As you said,” Arjuna returned, “perhaps it was God’s will.”

* * *

And God’s will it was— _perhaps_ —Arjuna marvelled, as the months passed and the seasons change. In the autumn, they had grown quite familiar with each other, although of course, Arjuna kept his distance. He observed Karna from a distance—a _safe_ emotional distance—and treated him not unkindly, but for most of the part, professionally. He knows Karna knows, but for some reason—perhaps for fear of ruining their daily routine—the older man never bring it up, and the issue hangs between them like a cloud. 

Despite that, the unease and doubt that builds up in Arjuna’s heart had never gone away, not completely, not at all. As a matter of fact, sometimes he dreamt that Karna was something terrible—something inhuman and terrifying and beyond his comprehension—despite the man’s gentle and humble nature, which he repeatedly demonstrated during his time living under Arjuna’s wing in the church.

It was partially windy that early afternoon with a chance of rain, cold October shower, and the church was deserted. Arjuna felt cramped inside for some reason, felt the need to stretch his legs for a little, and—despite himself—went to the backyard, where he spotted Karna swiping some fallen leaves. Again, despite himself, Arjuna approached him.

“Good day, Father,” Karna acknowledged him with a nod, smiling slightly. His right eye (and his eyes in general) aside, there were other odd things about him and his behaviour—like the fact that he didn’t know how to do some basic things—and sometimes Arjuna still felt slightly discomforted by him, as if Karna wasn’t Karna but some creature waiting to break free from his mortal coil. Again and again Arjuna scolded himself mentally for having such thoughts, and moreover for having certain…suspicions about him. He told himself that Karna was merely a man—a man with bad luck, but a man nonetheless—and that superstitions are merely superstitions. 

“Is there anything wrong?” Karna asked, serenely, his silvery voice putting a stop to Arjuna’s train of thoughts. He then realised that he had been hovering there without saying anything or returning the other man’s polite greeting, and he felt quite embarrassed about it.

“Ah, nothing, there’s nothing wrong,” Arjuna said, abashed, “I apologise for not returning your greeting.”

“It’s alright,” Karna hummed, wiping some sweat from his brow. “Are you taking a break?”

“Well, quite,” Arjuna answered, just a little puzzled. Despite the months they’d spent living together, small talk is still not his forte, and, he suspected, it wasn’t Karna’s, either. “Did I disturb you in any way?”

“No,” Karna said, smiling his enigmatic smile, yet stopped what he’s doing, leaning very lightly on his broomstick. Arjuna thought that, despite his secondhand clothes and the sweat off his back, he looked like one of the angels in a painting or sculpture, or even the stained glass in the church’s window. Despite the enigma surrounding him—and despite Arjuna’s unease—there was an oddly pure quality about him, as if he was unaffected by the base, sinful world surrounding him, something that Arjuna—admittedly—as part of the clergy, envied. “You don’t disturb me at all. Father, if this is the right time, may I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” Arjuna answered, now feeling more than a bit puzzled, “please, go on ahead.”

“Do you really believe in God?” Karna asked, after a period of silence, his blue and red-ringed gaze piercing. For a moment, Arjuna was afraid to answer, as if the wrong answer would elicit a stray thunderbolt from the sky, in the most literal sense of the word.

“Karna,” he scolded him, lightly, aloof, “of course I do. Do you have a crisis of faith?”

“Of course you do,” Karna smiled again, although privately this time, as if the question was some sort of a personal, inside joke. “Asking a priest if he believes in God is like asking a fisherman if he believes in the existence of fish. But why do you believe in God?”

Aggravated, Arjuna held his tongue, wanting very much to tell him to back off, for this is toeing a very personal line that he would rather very much not cross. He let out a very long sigh. “I believe in God not merely because the Bible told me He existed. I believe in God because He created humans and set out examples in form of the prophets…but that’s merely scratching the surface,” Arjuna cuts himself off, waving it away, “I asked you a question earlier.”

“I know the rest,” Karna said, much too soft and much too early. “You had everything as a child. You needed something to believe in, to set you apart from the rest. You wanted to be that shining paragon, so you seek out God in order to prove yourself that you’re worthy.” Arjuna opened his mouth to counter him, absolutely shocked, but the other man continued. “And to answer your question, yes, I do have a crisis of faith. I need your help.”

“I-“ Arjuna managed to say, torn between pushing Karna away and reminding him—of their relationship, of his place, of _everything_ —still shell-shocked and speechless. “You’re out of your mind, Karna.”

“I know,” Karna responded, sadly, once more resigned, “you’d think of me as more than that if I do this.”

“Do what?”

Karna smiled, and stepped in close. Arjuna could smell his sweat and the October day on him, the summer sky in his eyes, interrupted by a bloody twilight—

“This,” he says, and kissed him, tilting Arjuna’s chin with his fingertips. Arjuna felt a soft gasp escaping his mouth, but he quickly—reflexively—kissed the other man back, despite himself. There was a touch of fire to Karna, for some reason, something that burns and burns and burns, and he was afraid that he’ll get burned.

The kiss lasted only for a moment, but it felt like eternity. When Arjuna came to it, he pushes the other man away, and slaps him hard on the cheek, the sound of it ringing in the empty yard. 

“You—“ Arjuna said, feeling his cheeks reddening, not really knowing what to do and really hating not knowing what to do, not to mention perfectly outraged, “you should leave. Immediately. You know what you did.”

He not only overstepped the boundary between them that Arjuna has drawn so clearly, Karna has also broken whatever veneer of mundanity was between them, no matter how thin or fake. And Arjuna despised that. Especially the fact that he’d known better that letting Karna in was a bad idea.

Karna released him, obliging, looking a little ashamed. “I have to confess, Father, I’ve always wanted to know how that feels like,” Karna said, drawing away, and a part of Arjuna wanted him back, selfishly, “but now I know. Yes, I will leave tomorrow. But I have one last request.”

“What is it?” Arjuna spat out, impatiently. He cannot wait to get this problem out of his hair, even if he knows that it would probably take him more than a while to do so.

“I need to confess, tomorrow, after Mass,” Karna told him, and Arjuna couldn’t say no, “will you oblige me?”

“Yes,” Arjuna answered, despite everything. “Now please, leave me alone.”

In the beginning, there was light, and Arjuna still tasted it in his tongue.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karna's confession, parting ways, and what happened after that. The loss of innocence as well as the dawning of the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to give a shoutout to @KarmicResonance on Twitter for giving me the *cough* altar sex idea. Listen to [this song](https://open.spotify.com/track/5tMNfvZZTSmeterYKXYjdL) for ambience, if you want.
> 
> Anyway, with no further ado, please enjoy!

That night, Karna didn’t come home, and Arjuna spent it praying as if his life was depending on it. 

In a way, he thought, it was. It wasn’t the kiss, he tried to rationalise—it was everything he knows about Karna, everything they’d talked about (and didn’t), and every peculiar behaviour he’d ever demonstrated in his presence, knowingly or otherwise. Arjuna refused to believe that it was anything else other than that. His faith and his reason compels him to reject any other possibility.

When he wakes up in the morning—barely able to sleep, dreaming of some black-winged creature resembling Karna—groggy and scowling, he discovered that Karna’s room and things remained undisturbed, and he instinctively sighed, grateful for the fact that the other man finally recognised that he’d went far over the edge—even if Arjuna granted him his last wish to confess after Mass—and had extricated himself from the situation without demanding Arjuna to fulfill his (questionable) wish.

However, things—as always—didn’t go the way he’d wanted it to be. The congregation has thinned out by then, leaving by two and threes and fours, and there were only a few who approached him, either for an official confession or to ask for his help regarding something that has been bothering them. Arjuna’s mind, though, wasn’t on it, and he was glad when what few remains have filed out.

All excepting for one.

“Father,” Karna greeted, raising his blue-and-red gaze to meet him. He looked unkempt, his clothes a little dirty, as befits a man who didn’t come home last night. Part of Arjuna—the part who had grown _familiar_ with him—worried about him, and Arjuna could feel his mouth quirked down into a scowl, but he quickly neutralised his expression. Even if he didn’t want to, he was still duty-bound to grant Karna’s last wish before he hopefully steps out forever of his life.

“I didn’t see you last night,” Arjuna said, raising his eyebrow slightly, surprised at his own familiarity in his tone and words, but managed to keep it cool. “Where did you go?”

“I thought I’d look for some stars,” Karna said in return, shrugging vaguely. Arjuna felt the old infuriation all coming back in waves, but with a little something else, something that he’d refused to acknowledge even until now.

“Ah,” Arjuna said, quite sarcastically, “well, then, should we get on with it? Or are you going to tell me what is it that’s been bothering you?”

Karna looked lost and tongue-tied again for a bit, after Arjuna’s question, and Arjuna couldn’t help but feel quite sorry for him, though he quickly bats the thought away. “Please,” he said, unpredictably, “I need it. I’ll get out of your hair afterwards, Arjuna.”

It was the first time that he called him by name, and a strange feeling entered Arjuna’s ribcage and to his heart, but he tried to pretend that it was nothing, even if he felt a blush creeping up to his cheeks. “God demands that I help you, Karna,” he merely said, making his way to the confessional, crossing himself when he thought the other man wasn’t looking. “Now come. I have more work to do afterwards, now that you are leaving me.”

He stole a glance at Karna—accidentally, he said to himself—and thought he saw a flash of hurt, but Arjuna quickly looked away, entering the confession booth. He couldn’t made it less obvious that he wanted this to be done and over with as quick and painless as possible even if he tried. 

“Father,” Karna started, after a certain amount of silence, in the darkness of the booth, and Arjuna felt a pang of _something_ , but he quickly brushed it aside. “I cannot be sure if I have sinned, but…” he trailed off for a bit, and Arjuna found himself hanging on to his every word as if his life depended on it, as if Karna was praying—something that he’d seen him do every night, with a fervour that’s entirely different from his—and he couldn’t quite look away, for it was strangely beautiful and oddly alien. “But the other person seemed to be sure that I have. In that case, then I suppose I have sinned, and I have resigned myself to that fact.”

It takes every bit of Arjuna’s self-control to not take this personally and gave him a personal response. “What manner of sin are you talking about?”

“I have kissed someone, and they do not return my feelings. I have done what I perceived as the right thing, and I am thrown out. I have loved, and yet…” he paused, and Arjuna couldn’t help but cursed mentally. Part of him wanted to reassure him, personally, and yet another part of him just wanted Karna out of his life. “…and yet God sees it fit to deny me both His love and the love of others. Father, I am sorry,” he added, meaning every bit of it, and Arjuna could hear his voice shake, just a little bit. “I did not mean to burden this upon you, nor anyone else.”

There was a surprised silence, from Arjuna’s part, and he found himself tongue-tied, speechless, but he knows Karna was waiting for his response. “My child, I am very sorry to hear that,” he managed, quite awkwardly, “is this how you truly feel? That God has sees it fit to deny you His love, and others’ love? For God loves everyone equally, including you and me, and if you feel unloved, He will demonstrate to you His love, in one way or another. Please,” he added, gently, despite himself, “do not be so hard on yourself.”

“Yes,” Karna responded, but distracted, monotonous, as if he was both thinking of something else and at the same time unsatisfied with Arjuna’s response. Arjuna was certain that that is how he feels right now. “Of course, you are right, Father. God loves us. And yet…and yet I still wonder.”

“About what?”

“If God still loves me, in particular. Although that was selfish of me to ask. You did say that God loves everyone equally, and universally, including you and me.” he paused again. “…yet I am here, alone, exiled from his love,” Arjuna could hear the apparent distress and anguish in his voice, and he couldn’t help but wonder _why_. What could possibly hurt Karna so much that he assumed that God has permanently exiled him from his love? And why, also, the particular phrasing? He wondered. “Isn’t that a paradox? I wouldn’t be here if He still loves me,” his voice rises like thunder, but only a little, “and if you say that He loves us all the time…from birth to death, as you humans are wont to do, then any deviation from that action is also a paradox, don’t you think, Father?”

Arjuna was baffled. He simply wasn’t equipped to answer such a question, and he felt the old infuriation rising within him. But in the end, his curiosity wins.

“Why, Karna?” he asked, simply. “Why all of this?”

He met his gaze, then, through the small window of the confessional, and there was a pause, a rising silence, growing between them, and Arjuna could feel that, whatever gap there is between them—from the start—it is growing larger and bigger, and at the same time, he felt that, although he and Karna had only known each other for a couple of months, Karna was going _away_ from him, down a path that he could barely see, much less follow. Arjuna swallowed. Karna smiled, aloof and seemingly unbothered now. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said. “You had everything. You always did. And God loves you more than you’d care to realise.”

When he left, Arjuna felt himself—instinctively—reaching for him, his hand on the window, but Karna had already left, and when he finally, finally had gathered himself enough to exit the confessional, he was alone in the church.

As if he’d always been alone all along.

* * *

The months passed. Arjuna busied himself with his work, forgetting all about Karna and the incident in the backyard, or at least that’s what he tried to tell himself. The truth is, however, he simply _couldn’t_ —not after what had transpired between them, not the way he’d trembled by his touch. Arjuna simply couldn’t forget people who’d made him feel _vulnerable_.

And Karna was one of them, the only one, in fact.

Embarrassingly, although the strange dreams/nightmares had slowly ceased, as his routine returns to normal and the room across the hallway starts collecting dust once more, he dreamt of him once—in the guise of an angel, unlike in Book of Revelations and so, so unlike his dreams, but _luminous_ and _radiant_ —and he woke up breathing heavily, sweat on his brow, still feeling the touch of Karna’s wings on his cheeks, his strangely soft yet calloused hands on his thigh. Moreover, he could _feel_ his lips on his—and, like the last time, he could taste fire, but in a different way (softer, though harsher at the same time), and he thought that perhaps, if the sun wasn’t a star, and if he could kiss it, that would probably how it tasted like. 

Arjuna was—unsurprisingly, perhaps—hard, and for the first time ever since he became a priest, he closed his eyes and yielded to the temptation, pulling down his trousers and briefs, and stroked his erection, imagining, once more, the radiance that he’d just felt in his dreams, the taste of Karna’s lips on his. 

In the early afternoon—just as unsurprisingly—after his morning prayers, and after he washed thoroughly that morning, he found himself heading—in his daily walk—towards the slum area where he’d first rescued Karna. 

There, he found the kids again, sitting this time, listening—to his surprise—to a familiar figure.

A part of him wasn’t surprised. What surprised him, however, is how he looks. The man looked slightly worse to wear and in need of a little haircut, but there was a smile on his lips and he was recounting something—presumably a tale from the sound of it—to the children of the poor, looking as if he belonged there. Arjuna felt himself being drawn to this spectacle, enchanted, as if Karna was a prince from another world, in the guise of a pauper, and he was looking at him speaking to his less fortunate subjects. 

The magic, however, was over the moment one of the children spotted him, and screamed to warn his friends. They all scattered in different directions once more, desperate to get away. Karna, too, immediately stood up, not even meeting his gaze.

Arjuna was, again, unsurprisingly, annoyed. “Karna,” he called out, before the other man could get away too, “we meet again.”

“Father,” Karna greeted, in return, and Arjuna sensed that he was suppressing something like annoyance, as well, although it was quite well-hidden. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Fancy seeing _you_ here, after all this time,” Arjuna said, and immediately regretted it. “Are those the children who live here?”

“They are _not_ trying to take my money,” Karna replied, quite defensively, “I was merely telling them stories.”

“There’s no need to get defensive,” Arjuna said, raising his hand peacefully, suddenly feeling sorry, “I was merely asking.” he paused, noticing that the other was avoiding his gaze, and purposefully looking at an alleyway that leads to another exit. “Will you walk with me, back to the church? I have something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Karna looked at him in disbelief, and Arjuna, for a moment, both regretted it and was afraid that he might refuse, and he looked like he might, for a second, but then his gaze softens as it finally met his. “Yes,” he told Arjuna, not unkindly, “I will walk with you, Arjuna.”

Arjuna felt strange, like there were butterflies in his stomach, or that he was finally doing the right thing.

* * *

It was snowing lightly as they arrived at the church, and Karna kept his hands on his pockets. Arjuna thought that he looked a little cold, and something about him was more than a little worse to wear—like a majestic animal who’d lost one of its limbs—but he quickly turned away and brushed the thought away.

He closed the double doors behind him, locking it securely from the inside, and Karna looked at him in askance when he turned to face him. “I thought we could talk in private,” Arjuna said, showing his open palm to him, as a gesture of good faith, and then gesturing towards one of the seats in the empty pew. “It wouldn’t do if we were talking and someone comes in, would it?” he paused, trying to gauge the other man’s reaction. “Of course, you could leave anytime, if you want.” 

If you never want to talk or see me ever again, Arjuna added, privately, to himself. Karna looked at him, still a little skeptical, and there’s a flash of distrust in his eyes, a moment of doubt—and it hurts more than any flesh wound could have inflicted. But then he shrugged, looking away.

“Suit yourself,” he said, seating himself. “What do you want to talk about?”

Arjuna stumbled for words, trying to untangle himself from the knot that he’d gotten himself in, and failed. “The…kiss,” he finally managed, swallowing hard, feeling his blood rushing into his cheeks. “A- and that I kicked you out…unfairly. I suppose I wanted to apologise, Karna,” now he swallowed whatever was left of his pride, and looked his strange blue-and-red gaze in the eye, “will you forgive me?”

“I have already forgiven you, Arjuna,” he said, softer than he had any right to be, his gaze softening, as well. Arjuna felt momentary relief, felt himself being freed of a burden he didn’t know he was carrying for the past months, ever since he kicked Karna out. “As I have already forgiven God,” Karna added, raising his gaze towards the cross mounted above the altar. “I think perhaps I am beginning to understand.”

“Understand what?” 

“Love,” Karna answered, his gaze still on the cross. “Perhaps it was never meant to be returned, forever a thorn on your side. Perhaps it was always meant to be a sacrifice, and it will never stop hurting. Now I understand why His son died on that cross.”

“Karna,” Arjuna said, concerned, stepping closer, “what are you trying to say?”

He was surprised to find Karna’s fingertips brushing his cheeks, soft as the wingtips that he felt in his dreams. “That I loved you, Arjuna,” he said, resting his hand on his cheek, and for the first time, Arjuna didn’t ever want this moment to end, finding himself leaning on his touch, feeling as if this wasn’t their first time, and that their meeting months ago wasn’t the first time that they met, “I loved you, but I understand that you could never return my feelings.” he paused, pulling his hand away. “I don’t know why or how. Will you forgive me, Father?”

Arjuna once more tried to grasp for words, and failed. “Everyone who loved is forgiven,” he told him, not unkindly, but his words rings hollow in the empty house of God. “Karna, I- I-“ he added, after a certain amount of silence, feeling the other withdrawing back to his shell, “I’m sorry,” he continued, and kneeled, pulling the other man’s face to him, kissing him deeply, tasting his own regret and fear on Karna’s lips.

“You don’t understand,” Karna told him, coldly, pulling away after briefly returning his kiss, “it’s not merely a sin to want to be with me, it’s more than that. I’m grateful you pushed me away, Arjuna.”

“What are you talking about?” Arjuna said, confused and angry both, but his anger abated a little when Karna kissed him—unable to control himself as well—replaced by a suppressed desire for him. “I know it’s a sin, Karna, you do not have to lecture me on that,” he responded, slightly irritated, “but…but I wanted you,” he added, pushing the other man back by his shoulders and kissed him again, “is that wrong? If that is wrong, then so be it. Let this be my fall from grace.”

“I- I have more things to talk about, Juna,” Karna interrupted, but Arjuna kissed his neck, reaching for his shirt. 

“That can wait,” Arjuna said, pulling Karna up and sliding his hands under his shirt. Karna blushed, his pale cheeks darkening, and Arjuna smirked in triumph, his own doubts and fear temporarily forgotten. “You want me too, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Karna confessed, unashamed, “I’ve been wanting you all this time. When I watched you pray, when I prayed with you, in the confessional…ah, forgive me,” he added, running his fingers through his hair, and then guiding Arjuna towards the altar as he kissed him again, “Father, I have sinned.”

“Let me take your confession,” Arjuna sighed, guiding Karna’s hands towards his collar. They stumbled a bit at the altar, like two teenagers drunk on each other, but Arjuna laughed—he’d never felt so alive before—and pulled the other closer, kissing him, again and again, as if it would never be enough.

Karna kissed him by the cheek, his lips teasing him until he found his earlobe, whispering in his ear. “Then let me worship you, Father,” he whispered, like the voice of a long-forgotten lover, and Arjuna shuddered, gasping, helping the other man hand undo his trousers, Karna’s hands stroking his erect cock gently, Arjuna's back against the altar table. 

“Karna…” Arjuna sighed, and Karna kneeled, his hands familiar and calloused, stroking him, and Arjuna tried to suppress his moans, biting his bottom lip at first, but he couldn’t help it. “A- ah,” he shuddered, grunting, guiding Karna’s hands. “Don’t stop,” he breathed, feeling Karna’s hands caressing his hard-on, squeezing lightly until he felt that he was leaking. Karna looked up and smiled, fingertips brushing the tip of Arjuna’s cock, licking his cum.

“How do you want me?” Karna asked, still caressing him, and Arjuna felt that he would come, messy and too soon, and he pushed the other away. “I see,” Karna said, smiling slightly, “on the altar, then. Is that what you want, Juna? To deface God by loving me on his altar?”

“Y- yes,” Arjuna breathed, barely able to squeeze out the word, not with Karna so close by and his hands stripping him of his clothes. “Fuck me on the altar. I want you inside me there, my filthy angel,” he blurted out, but barely noticed the pause that he’d somehow elicited. He felt impatient, full of wanting—and he’s tired of denying himself the pleasures that the world has to offer. “Come on, what are you waiting for? I’m all yours,”

There goes the enigmatic smile that turns Arjuna on so much, and he wanted to kiss it so much, but he felt Karna’s lips on his first, and then he was pushed to the altar roughly. “Ride me,” he manages to say, “do it until I cried. I challenge you, Karna.”

“I’m up to the challenge, Juna,” Karna told him in return, climbing on top of him—after taking off his own clothes—and Arjuna felt the tip of his cock in his ass, seeking entry, but he was severely distracted by the other man pulling him by the hair and kissing him on the lips violently. There was a tenderness in Karna’s violence—and vice versa—and somehow, Arjuna found it to be very attractive. He felt the other man’s lips kiss his jaw, and then down to his collarbones and chest, sucking in with his teeth and tongue every now and then, leaving marks that were there for the world to see, while his hands and his cock teased his ass. 

“P- please,” Arjuna begged, in-between the moaning, breathing heavily, “fuck me. Now. I can’t hold it any longer.”

“This will hurt a bit,” Karna warned, pushing his fingers inside after wetting them with his own saliva. “Unless you have a spare lubricant nearby? I’d imagine a priest wouldn’t have them in stock.”

“N- no,” Arjuna breathed, shuddering at the sensation of Karna’s fingers inside his ass, trying to hold back the waves of pleasure that already threatens to overcome him. “We- we’ll have to make do.”

“Well then,” Karna said, laconically—and, Arjuna could imagine, smiling wryly—gently teasing him while preparing him for the inevitable entry, “brace yourself, Father.”

He let Karna came first, a stream of warmth inside of him, in contrast with the cold and inhospitable altar table, and the cold, empty church, the cross overlooking them as if God was indeed watching, and then Arjuna also came, messily, seeing stars, his head light and empty afterwards. It hurts, as Karna said, and he felt tears welling up as Karna was riding him, wiping them in the aftermath. An unfamiliar sort of bliss came over him, and he was relieved that Karna helped him up—although of course he would never admit it.

A comfortable sort of silence settles between them, for the first time. 

“Can you walk?” Karna was the first to break it, and Arjuna glanced at him. He still wondered what it is that made him so attracted to this man. Perhaps it was the enigma surrounding him. Or perhaps—perhaps it was because he was the first person who’d tried to tell him the truth, whatever it was.

“I’d imagine I have to tell the townsfolk that I fell down in the loo or something,” Arjuna said, wryly, giving him a slight smile, “but yes. Thank you for your concern.”

“You don’t have to…” Karna said, shifting uncomfortably, as if suddenly remembering something important. “Is this what hu- people normally do? After…after that?”

“I don’t know,” Arjuna said, looking directly at Karna, _really_ looked at him for the first time, finally feeling comfortable enough to be completely himself in his presence. Perhaps it was the post-orgasmic bliss. “Do you think so?”

Karna fidgeted with his fingers, groggily. Arjuna thinks it’s quite adorable. “I do not possess enough knowledge of this to answer.”

Arjuna picks up his clothes, which are scattered on the floor near them in the dais, but in a nonchalant, absentminded sort of way. “You’re very strange sometimes, Karna,” he said, “sometimes I think I know you. From before all of this. But other times…” he trailed off, remembering the dreams and the feelings, “other times it was as if I do not know you or what kind of man you are, at all.”

There was a long silence, and Arjuna holds his clothes close on his chest but did not get dressed yet, while Karna stays where he is, seated on the altar table still, looking in all the world like a marble angel coming to life. Arjuna could sense, by the silence and by the expression on Karna’s pale face, that he was about to tell him something important. 

“That is because I am not a man at all, Arjuna,” Karna finally said, narrowing his eyes at him. There was no anger in it, in fact no warmth at all, just something cold and inhuman, and Arjuna found himself laughing in the face of this absurdity. 

“You see? That is what I meant when I said that you are strange,” Arjuna told him, raising an eyebrow, although a part of him _knows_ that he was telling the truth, a part of him remembers the dreams and the strange intermixing of emotions surrounding them—

And where Karna was seated, a pair of black, feathery wings sprouted out from his back, monstrous in their glory, magnificent like the night. Still, there was something very wrong about them, and Arjuna felt repulsed, afraid, but also conflicted.

“Is this—“ he found himself saying, remembering the latest dream he had about him, so soft and yet so glorious, unlike all the others, “—some sort of a trick?”

It wasn’t real. There was no way that it was real.

“No,” Karna said, sadly, shaking his head, “it’s real, Arjuna. This is why I told you God no longer loves me.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end, and the beginning. What happens after Karna reveals his true identity to Arjuna--and the extent of his true feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really REALLY sorry this took me so long, I got my own demons to contend with for the past weeks. And I'm sorry, too, if this isn't the ending you're looking for, but I'm really hoping it was. Be on the lookout for something cute from me next time, and enjoy! <3
> 
> Some music to liven up your reading: [part one](https://open.spotify.com/track/3pN7HDHbcahxyHTgNOyOLs), [part two](https://open.spotify.com/track/6hBHGSSHlrg42N38gUR1IV), and for [the entire AU](https://open.spotify.com/track/2t5RDjZmQIHf21VWunkXDm).

Arjuna instinctively took a step back after Karna’s revelation.

_No, it cannot be_ , his mind told him, rejecting the truth that presented itself in front of him right then and there. He wanted to flee, wanted to shake the other man by the shoulders, wanted to— wanted to—

He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and opened them again. “Karna,” he says, his voice shaking just a little, “I- I honestly don’t know what to say,” he told him, finding himself taking a step closer to him, then another, extending his hand and touching his cheek, brushing it, then slowly, ever so slowly and tentatively to his right wing, feeling the softfeathers bend and rustle underneath his touch. It was just like in his dreams; despite their dark colouring, the feathers were just as gentle and just as glorious. They shine with their own peculiar luminosity in the empty church. In the altar, underneath the cross, Karna is a messenger of some dark revelation, and yet, his face shines with kindness and mercy, like that of a saint’s, or an angel who didn’t fell from God’s shining city. 

“There is nothing to say,” he said, finally, his fingers brushing Arjuna’s hand, taking hold of it, fingertips gently massaging his knuckle. “Not between us,” he seeks Arjuna’s lips, and Arjuna yielded, letting Karna kiss him gently, like the soft afternoon light. He felt the wings wrapped around him, briefly, every bit as kind as their owner, and he felt himself sigh against Karna’s lips. When he finally pulled away, his fingers underneath Arjuna’s chin, Arjuna thought he was going to cry, but he smiled, laced with sadness and yearning. “Is this how it feels to be loved?”

Arjuna doesn’t know what to say. “Yes,” he sighed, leaning close and stole a kiss from Karna’s lips, letting himself be held for once, arms and wings and lips all holding him close, keeping him captive.

“It is glorious,” Karna mused, and Arjuna felt his grip around him tightening for a moment, as if he was afraid of losing him— _again_ —and he gently rested his head on Karna’s shoulderblade. “Now I understand.”

“Now I understand too,” Arjuna whispered, and then there was a comfortable silence between them.

Karna pulled back, resting his forehead against his, looking both sad and torn, then. Arjuna wonders why, still wonders why, although the reason is obvious—and the rational, faith-washed part of him _knows_ what he was going to say, knows what his answer should be. But for the first time in his life, he defies it. He _wanted_ to defy it. 

“Arjuna,” Karna started, and he could already see the pangs of pain in Karna’s haunted, mismatched eyes, “tell me if you wanted me to leave, and I will leave. I know I have done and caused nothing but confusion and pain in your life, and I fully acknowledge that. I will leave if you wanted me to. We- we will never see each other again,” he continued, despite the obvious pain in his eyes, “you have a beautiful soul,” he whispered, “and you should save it from damnation while you still can.”

“I do not give a damn,” Arjuna retorted, surprising the other man, and he pulled him closer, kissing him hard in the lips. “Karna…I wanted you, and only you. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. You said God loved me more than I know or realised. I would forsake that for you, for your love.”

There was another silence, a shocked one, but Karna slowly smiled. Arjuna felt his heart beats faster, and the other man pulled him in for another embrace. “Thank you, Arjuna,” he said, and Arjuna felt something salty on his shoulder: his tears. “I love you. I do,” he added. 

Arjuna smiled, even if Karna couldn’t see it. “I love you too,” he whispered. “Stay. Please.”

There are still doubts on his mind—if anything, they multiplied instead of the other way around ever since the revelation—but Arjuna was finally certain of one thing.

He wanted Karna to stay.

* * *

The night unfolded itself like a shawl, a dark chariot pulled by sleep and dreams—although this time Arjuna wasn’t alone, and then, only then, did he feel the stark loneliness that has seeped into his very soul and has become his being—studded by stars and haunted by things left unsaid, and what happened that afternoon on the altar in the house of the absent God found itself being reenacted in Arjuna’s bedroom, right after dinner. They kissed and they held each other and they whispered sweet nothings, each promise more extravagant and impossible than the last, a gentler, softer reenactment—not an epilogue, he thought, insisted upon himself, but a _prologue_ —and right before sleep claimed him with his sweet balm of the soul, Arjuna felt Karna unfolded his wings and wrapped themselves in it, and he fell asleep to a sweet, unknown scent.

He remembered, in a vague way people remember things they think about before sleep claimed them, that he asked himself, if this is how it feels like to hold the entire heaven in his palms. Not the empty husk of a heaven that he always envisioned it to be, but something beautiful, glorious and luminescent and _kind_ , like Karna.

Morning comes all too soon, clothed in white and rose gold. Arjuna woke up first, with a start, and then all of it comes back to him. He wanted to slip away for a moment, to wash his face and to reflect on what he’d done—he knows he should have felt _shame_ , should self-flagellate himself for the sins he had committed, not just one, but _multiple_ sins, but instead, he felt nothing on the subject, and there is a part of him that was satisfied, at least, and _unlonely_ , at last—but Karna had woke up, as well. Arjuna discovered, with embarrassment, that he was holding him as much as he let the other man hold him in his arms (and wings, too).

“Good morning,” Karna said, smiling beatifically, as if this was the normal thing to do, “did you sleep well?”

“I- I did, yes,” Arjuna answered, trying to blink the sleep away from his eyes. He averted his gaze, and a sort of companionable silence fell between them. Karna sighed and shifted slightly, and Arjuna felt a sudden wave of protectiveness washing over him.

“Are you going to go for morning prayers?” Karna asked, whispering the word into his skin more like, and Arjuna couldn’t help but blush. 

“Y- yes,” he managed to respond, pulling away just a little, only the tiniest bit, just to admire the angel in his bed, even if he wouldn’t admit it. “But Karna—“ he spluttered out, the rest of his sentence becoming a sigh as Karna kissed the junction between his neck and shoulder, “will you stay?” he bit his tongue afterwards. Still, Arjuna’s regrets are quickly washed away, since Karna smiled again at his question.

“Only if you wanted me to,” he said, kissing his neck lazily, and Arjuna suppressed a soft moan, “do you want me to, Juna?”

This time Arjuna manages to regain control of himself and pushes Karna back on the bed, pinning him there by his naked shoulders, noting the soft feathers dotting his bed. Their gaze met, for a moment, and Arjuna brings his hand once more to his wing, caressing it. Karna suppressed a shiver.

“Is there anything you haven’t told me about them?” he asked, running his fingers through the dark feathers. He absently wondered if all the stories of angels are true, and if his dreams—in the past—were trying to tell him the truth. He knows Karna was trying to, but he turned aside, was blind towards what was there all along.

“A lot,” Karna said, a teasing smile underscoring his words, and Arjuna didn’t know who started it first, but their lips ended up on each other again, his hand still pinning the other man by the shoulder while the other is fisting a handful of his feathers. He moved his hand—the one on his wing—liberally, alternately caressing them and pulling them—softly, like a lover—while his lips held Karna’s captive. He felt the other man groan and shift beneath him, and Arjuna moved his legs so they pinned Karna by the hips. Karna was growing harder by the second, and he knows it, biting his neck, Karna’s wing fluttering under his touch.

“Do you mean like that?” Arjuna breathed, not touching Karna’s erection, but instead cleverly moving his hands to his wings, feeling Karna’s lips on his, the other man writhing underneath him, rubbing his hard-on on Arjuna’s thigh, clearly trying to gain some friction. 

“You’re killing me, Arjuna,” Karna whispered, and there was something in the way he breathed out his name that makes Arjuna grows warm on the inside, and he felt himself getting hard, too. “You’re teasing me.”

“How am I teasing you if I didn’t know how to satisfy you like this?”

“A little more,” Karna told him, “down,” he says, and Arjuna smiled, obeying him, feeling pleasure welling up within him when he heard the other man moan and felt him shift and buckle, “d- don’t stop. Don’t stop. Arjuna…please,” 

“Louder,” Arjuna whispered in his ear, “beg louder, my angel.”

“Please,” Karna shuddered, and Arjuna knows that he was close to release. He gripped his wings again, kissing his neck, holding him while he comes, messily, on Arjuna’s thigh, moaning his name like it was the only sacred thing in the world. Perhaps now it was. Arjuna felt the warmth on his thigh, the familiar stickiness, and smiled. 

“Now help me,” he whispered on his skin, guiding Karna’s hands to his hard-on. It wasn’t long before he, too, comes on Karna’s thigh, moaning his name, Karna’s wings holding him.

* * *

In the aftermath, they lie together, side-by-side, and Arjuna discovered that, for the first time, he _doesn’t care_. The sliver of defiance that has entered him and grow inside of him like a shard of a silver mirror ever since he met Karna had become something more, like an eclipse, or the sun rising.

And for the first time, too, Arjuna could see things clearly.

“Karna,” he asked, feeling the other’s fingertips tracing his naked skin with pure curiosity, as if he could never get enough of him, as if Arjuna was worth more than a thousand silver moons, “what do you mean when you said that God loved more than I realised?”

“Ah,” Karna said, slowly, lazily, for they were in no hurry to do anything, and, Arjuna thought, even a priest could be sick too, “you see, you are…different,” he said, ruffling Arjuna’s hair slightly. Arjuna scowled at him for that, although a part of him likes it. “Special. I can’t explain it. Perhaps it is the way that you insisted on your faith, even if others had tried to dissuade you from your path multiple times. Perhaps it is who you are. Or perhaps…it was something else, something that even I couldn’t glimpse,” Karna said, tousling Arjuna’s hair affectionately once more, “do you understand now?”

“I don’t,” Arjuna said, bluntly, suddenly rising to a sitting position. Karna looked at him, amused, leaning back on the bedpost, careful with his wings, who lay relaxed about him. “I don’t understand, _now_ , why I—“ he gulped, “why I could ever think that such an alien—a vile, _alien_ being—could love me or any human at all. Why did He even create us?”

“It is all part of His plan,” Karna explained, and, seeing the look on Arjuna’s face, pulls him close, gently, and Arjuna lets him. “You may not understand it, you may have heard it a thousand times before—for what are you but a preacher yourself—but He does have a plan. And even I couldn’t glimpse the grandness of it.”

“He _banished_ you,” Arjuna cuts him off, feeling a pang of pain at the hurt and sorrowful look in Karna’s face. “He exiled you from His love, left you wondering about whether or not He ever loves you in the first place. He let you wander in a world that wasn’t supposed to be yours. He lets you know pain and suffering. Now tell me, how should I love a God who had done that to a creature that He created to serve Him?”

How could I love a God who had exiled you, was what Arjuna was actually trying to say, and he knows that Karna knows, from the sad, distant look in his eyes. 

“You don’t have to,” Karna said, reaching out, caressing Arjuna’s cheek lightly. “That is why you were created with free will. Now, may I hold you?”

That brings out a smile in Arjuna’s face, even if his heart is still conflicted, and Karna probably knows about it, too. He nodded, and Karna pulls him in, and they stayed that way for a second, before Arjuna kisses him, slowly, and he kisses him back. Arjuna knows at that moment, for certain, that Karna was his, body and soul, and he, his. 

“I love you,” Karna whispered, pulling him closer for another kiss. “Even if you regretted this, Arjuna, I swear to God, Arjuna, I love you. I love you even more than the rising sun.”

“I regretted nothing,” Arjuna told him, a half-truth, “I love you too.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, please let me know in the comments--as always, comments & suggestions are welcome! Thank you for reading <3
> 
> hmu @ twitter: raginghel


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